and she rolls her eyes. The
_canaille_ applaud. It is always like that. Your health, monsieur!"

He drank his wine without apparent enjoyment, but he drank it like
water. Selingman leaned across the table.

"Coulois," he whispered, "the wolves bay loudest at night, is it not
so?"

The man sat quite still. If such a thing had been possible, he might
have grown a shade paler. His eyes glittered. He looked steadfastly at
Selingman.

"Who are you?" he muttered.

"The wolves sleep in the daytime," Selingman replied.

The dancer shrugged his shoulders. He held out his glass to be
replenished. The double password had reassured him.

"Pardon, monsieur," he said, "these have been anxious hours."

"The little affair at La Turbie?" Selingman suggested.

Coulois set down his glass for the first time half finished. His mouth
had taken an evil turn. He leaned across the table.

"See you," he exclaimed in a hoarse whisper, "what happened, happened
justly! Martin is responsible. The whole thing was conducted in the
spirit of a pantomime, a great joke. Who are we, the Wolves, to brandish
empty firearms, to shrink from letting a little blood! Bah!"

He finished his wine. Selingman nodded approvingly as he refilled his
glass.

"My friend and I," he confided, "were amongst those who were held up.
Imagine it! We stood against the wall like a row of dummies. Such
treasure as I have never before seen was poured into that sack. Jewels,
my friend, such as only the women of Monte Carlo wear! Packet after
packet of mille notes! Wealth immeasurable! Oh, Coulois, Coulois, it was
an opportunity lost!"

"Lost!" the dancer echoed fiercely. "It was thrown into the gutter! It
was madness! It was hellish, such ill-fortune! Yet what could I do? If I
had been absent from here--I, Coulois, whom men know of--even the police
would have had no excuse. So it was Martin who must lead. Our armoury
had never been fuller. There were revolvers for every one, ammunition
for a thousand.... Pardon, monsieur, but I cannot talk of this affair.
The anger rises so hot in my heart that I fear to betray myself to those
who may be listening. And besides, you have not come here to talk with
me of it."

"It is true," Selingman confessed.

There was a brief silence. The dancer was studying them both. There was
uneasiness in his expression.

"I do not understand," he enquired hoarsely, "how you came by the
passwords?"

"Make yourself wholly at ease, my youn